When Worlds Collide
by niki-nikster
Summary: A lonely FBI agent prepares to leave Philadelphia to begin a new life... unless the beginning finds him first.  Rating might change to M later!
1. Chapter 1

This was purely an impulsive piece of writing, a little something I'd penned down when I was unwell and a notebook happened to be the only thing within easy reach. Never thought I'd be doing a brief HR fic, but here I am! :D This might be anything from 3 – 5 chapters long. **Anyhooo, there's two things I want the readers to note before they read the fic! **First of all, this fic is in no way connected to The Hell Within, though the central characters are the same. It is in no way an epilogue of what is to come (in Hell Within). Secondly, I hope you guys can try to imagine Grace being prettier in this one (google Ginnie Watson, she is pretty!). I dunno why they didn't model her on Ms. Watson. Madison Paige wouldn't have stood a chance then! xD

I have no idea how this fic will proceed, just posted this on instinct. Please review it so that I can write the rest! :D And oh, if you're an unregistered reader, I'll reply to your reviews on my profile.

* * *

Grace looked around the room in astonishment. "Where did this come from?" There were balloons tied to the bed-post and a teddy bear for Shaun kept on the side table. He smiled and gave her the card he had received. It read :

_Dear Shaun,_

_I hope you are feeling better. Great to have you back in action soon. Be good and look after mum and dad._

_Regards,_

_Norman Jayden_

"That is very nice of him," Grace said and gently folded the card. "You should thank him when you get to meet him." "Already did, mom." He could see that she was confused. "He was here some time ago. You were talking to the doctor outside."

Grace felt a pang of disappointment. She would have loved to meet her son's rescuer. "Well," she shrugged, "I guess I missed him." Shaun was an exact contrast and excited. "Can we go see dad now?" Grace bent to kiss his forehead. "Right away, my baby."

* * *

Norman Jayden quietly contemplated the vial of Triptocaine he was holding. He had a choice to make, between sanity and chaos, freedom and dependence. Living and dying. The decision was not too difficult to make. He walked into the first cubicle he saw and dropped the vial into the toilet bowl, pressing down the flush.

The vial swirled and spun in weak rebellion against the whirlpool before getting swallowed by the deluge. He looked at the mirror in the bathroom. The reflection was sickly pale, with dead eyes. But that would change. Some day, some time he would resemble the son his father would have been proud of.

The door swung open and a technician peeped in. "Mr. Jayden! You're on in five." The door shut as hurriedly as it had opened. Norman gave himself a final look in the mirror. Then, he walked away.

* * *

Ethan Mars did not know what to say to the officer who unlocked the door. His mind was abuzz with questions but his tongue had momentarily forgotten to curl. He remained just as speechless when Shaun spotted him from a distance and ran into his arms.

Ethan held him close to his chest. There was so much to say, so much to express. Grace stood and watched the reunion from afar. Ethan looked up and their eyes met. "I-"She struggled for words. Nothing could justify what she had done. "Ethan, I am so sorry…"

But when he smiled at her and held out his hand, she knew he had forgiven her. Grace squeezed it hesitantly. Shaun was ecstatic. "Let's go home!" he said, elatedly. Ethan lovingly ruffled his hair. "Yes… let's."

Grace dropped a note at Charlene's desk for Norman before catching up with father and son on the way out. Shaun walked out with his head held high. He was walking between Ethan and Grace who shielded him from the rain and protected him from the traffic.

He felt safe. For the first time in a very, very long time, they felt like a family again.

* * *

The congratulatory messages kept pouring in. _Thank you, _Norman replied to every one of them. His fingers ached from the typing and his jaws from smiling. He was a national hero. _Didn't do too badly, did you?_

The messages he received varied from hero-worship (_You're my God, Jayden!), _adulation (_You've done the nation a great service) _to unhealthy adoration (Norman did not even read the entire text before deleting it).

He left his phone to vibrate at his bed-side while he took a shower. _Where are they getting my number from?_

* * *

Ethan was not in the frame of mind to admire Grace's house. But he definitely marveled at its sheer cleanliness. "It's looking better than I last remember it," he said, mostly because he had nothing else to say. Grace smiled gently. "It's been a long time since you came, Ethan."

He was not going to argue with that.

"So… do you want to eat right away or wait a while?" Grace asked.

Ethan stopped to ponder over the offer. He wasn't really hungry. "Not right now, thanks." "Hey, dad!" Shaun leaned perilously over the barrister.

"Come on over!"

"Be with you soon!" Ethan volleyed back. He waited for Shaun to run off, to his room, before turning back to Grace. She stared back. Both waited for the other to say something first.

Ethan broke the silence. "I won't be a nuisance. I'll be leaving the moment Shaun's in bed." "You're not a nuisance," Grace said, quietly. "Besides, it would take you forever to get back. Stay the night."

She disappeared into the kitchen. Ethan went after her.

"You-you want me to stay here?"

"For tonight."

"You're really okay with that?"

"If I wasn't, Ethan, you wouldn't have made it past the front door."

Silence. There was absolute silence behind her. Grace barely plucked the courage to look behind. Ethan just stood there, his eyes fixed on her. "You're not a nuisance," she repeated, with finality.

"Thank you."

"It's all my fault."

"Why do you-"

"I went to the cops! That's why they came after you!"

Grace said it all in quick succession, barely completing each word. It was something she had to say, had to unload off her mind and tongue. She had expected him to be hurt, angry or something in between. But nothing in the world prepared her for his answer.

"I know."

"How?"

She gripped the counter behind her, daring to look up slightly. Only slightly.

"It came up during the interrogation."

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

That was all she could say, but meant it. Thankfully, Ethan knew that. There was so much more they could have said to each other at that moment. Words of apology, regret and comfort.

But they chose not to. It would probably have been a repetition of what had been said after Jason had gone. Not that it had helped save their marriage.

Ethan left the kitchen first, for Shaun's room. Grace followed a few minutes later. The rest of the evening went on as if nothing had happened…

* * *

**Author's note : That's it for now, folks! But I would LOVE some feedback. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

I know I've updated this fic after a really long time. I had written a 2nd chapter to this fic, but it was accidently sent off for recycling. The notebook was shredded and I was just too upset and disheartened to get back to writing the chapter all over again. But I'm actually liking this one better because the original chapter was really, really angsty. And honestly, I don't think we have a dearth of angsty HR fan fics on this site (including my own :P).

A 'thank you' to Witchy Bee, Betty Royale, xprimrose, Segran, HeroOfDarkness2005 and mythstoorfoot for the reviews left in Chapter 1. :)

I'd really appreciate reviews for this one too. Hope it's worthwhile. :)

* * *

Norman Jayden could've been a smug bastard when he walked into the police department the next day. But he took the high road. As always. Every fawning compliment was met with a gracious smile and a shy nod. Both were practiced.

Norman did get a chance to be snarky when Lieutenant Carter Blake said "He just got lucky!" loud enough for the entire department to hear. Norman had turned and smiled at him.

"Funny, I was thinking the exact same thing about the time they made you Lieutenant."

He expected to get tackled from behind when he turned but nothing of that sort happened. The case probably instilled this paranoia within him. Luckily, Blake left him alone, as did the other officers when they saw he was busy with all the paperwork.

It was an isolation he welcomed. The agent was still a certified workaholic. Mostly because he had nothing else to look forward to. To live for.

On the way out of the office late afternoon, Charlene handed over a note to him. Norman assumed it was a fan letter and thought of reading it later. That was until he read the name on the envelope. It was from Shaun Mars' mother. He opened the letter and read it as he walked out.

_Dear Mr. Jayden,_

_I do not know what I can say or do to convey my gratitude to you. Words fail me. That night at the warehouse it was not just my son's life you saved, but my own, as well as Ethan's. We owe our lives to you._

_These two words will never do justice to what we really feel or want to say, but: thank you. Thank you so much._

_I wish you every happiness and the best of luck in all your future endeavors._

_Regards,_

_Grace Garner._

He folded the letter, tucked it into his breast pocket and realized he was smiling. In the age of technology, a hand-written letter was something to be cherished. He always wrote to his mother in Boston when he had the time.

He was happy for the Mars family. In all likelihood, they were sorting out their issues. The kid was saved; man and wife would get together. It was the perfect ending. He only wished he could have spent more time with Shaun.

The boy had been resolute, letting him leave the hospital only after extracting a promise of meeting him again. Soon. Norman tried to work out a schedule in his mind. Shaun must have resumed school. The timing had to be taken under consideration. He hoped the Mars' wouldn't mind him dropping by either.

The cool breeze beat into him as it flew past. His jacket fluttered behind him. The rain no longer seemed to be liquid drops pouring down an hour glass. He would no longer be attacked by meat-hookers and sledgehammers. Not in this city, anyway. Or ever, hopefully. His black Impala was no longer a vehicle that ferried him from one wild goose chase to another.

After landing in Washington, he would embark upon an unending search for a female specimen to mate with. His mother had been insisting on grandchildren for a while now. Nobody could remember the last time he had been with a woman. Least of all, the man concerned.

He unclipped the FBI badge on his belt and tossed it into the backseat of his car. His gun, holster, coat and tie formed a pile above it. He unbuttoned his collar and rolled up his sleeves. Norman leaned against the car.

_God, I feel great._

He felt on top of the world. But a certain tremor erupting from his fingers reminded him that he wasn't. The sharpness stung him inside his brain. Maybe that explained the blurry vision. He turned and fumbled for the door-handle, unable to see much now. All the exhaustion of all the world seemed to cave onto him.

"Come on!" he begged and pounded against the door till it opened. The thick stream of blood trickled from his nose to his open, panting mouth. He nearly retched at its taste. Norman clambered into the car and shut the door. He curled like a fetus on the driver's seat, twitching and shuddering and pressing his palms to his head.

All the fluids from his body were being pumped into his brain till it came close to bursting. Just like a balloon fixed under a gushing tap. His heart pounded fiercely against his chest as if looking for an opening to fall out of, so that it could bleed all over the car.

His left hand began a futile search for the vial. Norman prayed that he hadn't _actually _flushed it all away. That maybe, in a misplaced sense of loyalty, he was carrying a spare one on him. He wasn't.

"Please…" he meant to whisper. It came out as a sob. He could see faces and hear voices that weren't present there. It was like watching twenty televisions at the same time. All on full volume. _They aren't real, _he reminded himself. _Not anymore._

Beads of sweat mingled with his blood, making it branch out like hideous veins. The pain, the throbbing and pulsing escalated and just when he thought he was about to pass out, he didn't.

The abruptness and intensity of the withdrawals had startled him. Norman knew, only too well, that they would worsen with time. He had to fulfill his promise to a ten year old boy before that happened.

* * *

Ethan Mars had been asleep for thirteen hours. Grace would open the door to the guest room to check on him. He had a doctor's appointment in a few hours. Grace wanted to get some food into him before that. Except she found waking a dead-beat man an act of terrible consideration.

However, a certain curiosity to explore the extent of damage on her former husband compelled her to sneak into the room with a small torch. She was a doctor, so she had plenty of these in the house and clinic.

Grace had tried to ask nicely about what happened in the last four days. He had been arrested only to escape and then be dragged back by the cops. He had also been a little ambiguous on the medical care he was receiving.

She had tried using tact, subtle hints and eventually coaxed him while laying dinner but it had not helped. Grace did not blame him. After two years of being apart, trust could not possibly be inspired overnight.

Not that her probing would be a confidence building measure. She rolled up her sleeves and then his shirt with nimble fingers. Grace wished he was sleeping shirtless. It would've made things convenient. But inappropriate too. And all kinds of awkward.

The faint yellow beam of the torch glimmered in the dark. She shone it over his exposed skin. There were red gashes on his back. She lifted his shirt higher to see a bandage taped around him. They seemed very similar to the wounds her father had sustained in a terrible car crash.

He had survived that one but life proved stingy with luck later on.

Slowly, but without warning, Ethan switched sides. Her hand was crushed under his waist. Grace's feet slipped out from underneath her and she landed on him.

"Ow! Aah! Shit!"

Grace rolled away from and fell off the bed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

He cursed under his breath and reached for the bedside lamp. Another yellow-ish glow emanated from the lampshade and he saw her crouched guiltily next to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and pulled the sheets closer around himself. Grace hung her head low. Ethan rolled off the bed from the other side.

"Just what the hell were you trying to do?"

She stood up, prepared to run out of the room in case Ethan decided to fling an object at her after knowing the reason.

"I-", she stood up. "I wanted to see how badly you were hurt."

Ethan glared at her, trying to understand what she was getting at. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're injured. I wanted to see how badly."

Ethan leaned against the wall. So it took her two years to come asking. Not that he made house calls either. In any case, it was a time both would rather forget. And Grace did seem sincere in her sympathy.

"Look, I don't want to alarm you. It's not so bad."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"You're just making a big deal out of nothing…"

"As the mother of your child, I think I've the right to know what's been happening with you. No secrets, for a change."

"Okay."

He hesitated for a second. Then he took a deep breath. His hands crossed around his waist as he grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head. A battered body marked by cuts and bruises emerged. But Grace noticed something else too.

"Wait! What's that?"

There was a panic in her voice Ethan had not hoped to hear.

"What's what?" he countered, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"Your left hand."

"What about it?"

"Show me your left hand."

Ethan had covered it with his shirt. "I don't know what you're talking-" Grace made a grab for it, and pulled it off before he could react. His hand stood in a defiant fist mid-air. It had been bandaged. And for good reason too. He had a missing digit.

The shirt slipped from her hand and glided to the floor. The torch followed with a thud. She reached for the unnatural stub. Felt it with her fingers. And that was exactly when she broke down.

"How did this happen, Ethan?" she choked between sobs.

"I had to save Shaun."

"Like this?" she gestures wildly to his hand. "Like _this_?"

"Oh honey…"

"Why would you do such a thing! Why!"

"Grace…"

He squeezed her shoulder. The thought of holding her close did occur to him, but he was not sure if it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.

"You'll never believe me if I told you what happened…"

Grace lifted her head. "Try me."

Ethan ruffled her auburn hair. "I will after I return from the doctor's. I'm assuming I've to be there soon enough."

"You do. But I'm dropping you."

"Don't bother. I-"

"Let me," she insisted.

"Alright. I'll tell you everything on the way there. Just… believe me, won't you?"

Grace nodded. "I can try."

* * *

Norman combed his fingers through his hair in the rear view mirror. He was trying to make himself presentable for Shaun. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt he looked like a sexual predator. A pale sinister man, sitting alone in a car and suspiciously eyeing every child exiting the school premises.

_Okay, maybe I should just hold on to my FBI badge._

It was around 3:30 PM. All the children were on their way home. He'd either missed Shaun as he walked past or the kid chose not to attend that day. Norman still wanted to make sure. He stepped out of the car and made his way to the grounds right behind the building.

A group of boys were playing soccer. Shaun wasn't there. He hadn't expected him to be. Just as he hadn't expected himself to drive like a maniac for a good distance, only to see a kid after school. Presumably, he had been late.

Norman was almost certain that Shaun had gone home. That was until his eyes darted to the stands. A brown-haired boy was sitting in one of the rows, bent over a notebook. He seemed forlorn and detached from the rest of the world. Norman walked towards the stands. Shaun reminded him of his own lonesomeness, one that had peaked during childhood and remained a plateau ever since.

"Shaun."

He looked up. Norman gave him an awkward smile. He never really knew what to do around kids. A little boy in his neighborhood actually called him 'Creepy Ghost Man'.

Shaun got up and came running to him. "Mr. Jayden!" He threw his arms around Norman's waist since that was about as high as he could reach.

The other boys did not seem to notice. Norman was relieved not to have someone peering curiously at him for a change. He patted Shaun's shoulder. "You can call me Norman, you know…"

The boy led him into the stands. "Mom-dad tell me it's rude to call grown-ups by their first name." Norman pondered over it for a second. "Okay, listen to your parents, then." He pinched his pants up his knees and sat next to him. "Why aren't you playing with the other kids?"

"I did a little… during recess."

"What you up to now?"

"Algebra."

Norman picked up the notebook and flipped through it. There were tremendous cancellations done for certain sums. The handwriting was slanting and barely legible. "This is your handwriting?" Norman asked, hoping to hell it wasn't.

Shaun nodded. "My friend Billy's. He always does a sum till he gets it right. He's so good at algebra, he isn't even studying for the test tomorrow. So he lent me the book."

"Tomorrow, huh?" Norman flipped past a few pages. "Aren't you exempted for, I dunno, exceptional circumstances?"

"There will be an easier paper set for me."

Norman looked up from the scrawl. "You don't seem to like Algebra much."

Shaun sighed. "It's difficult… aren't Math teachers the worst?"

"Yeah, they are," he agreed for the sake of it. He had joined school when he was around Shaun's age but never really judged a teacher.

Anything was better than being educated at an orphanage. The warden did teach extra things, but for an unpleasant price. Norman preferred to exist in a state of semi-literacy till school. "Where's your mom and dad?" he asked Shaun.

"Mom had to take dad to the doctor's. I don't mind waiting. I was anyway studying for tomorrow's test."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Sure," the boy said and handed over a pencil and notebook to him. Norman went over the equation twice in his head.

"Yeah, it's easy," he finally said, "the equation may look big and scary right now, but all you gotta do is use the BODMAS method in which-"

Shaun chuckled slightly. "You seem to like Algebra… much."

Norman smiled again. "Yeah… yeah I do."

Shaun sidled closer to him. They put their heads together. The younger brown headed child asked a lot of questions and the older one with pale blue eyes answered patiently. They sat in the stands, oblivious to the green and muddy grounds, the squabbling schoolboys and the grey skies above.

Suddenly, for Norman Jayden, interacting with a child did not seem so strange.

* * *

Grace did not say a word. Ethan began getting restless. "Say something," he nearly pleaded, "even if you didn't believe a thing."

"I just- it's… too much information."

Ethan fidgeted with his seat belt, waiting for Grace to make a turn before resuming the conversation.

"What do you mean when you say 'too much information'?"

"It's like-" she gestured with one hand, "the mind is like a small bag which can only digest a certain amount of information in a certain period of time. It works on the same principle as the stomach."

"So you're trying to say that I put you in an overload?" Ethan was mildly amused, but worried too since Grace looked visibly disturbed.

"I'm sorry," he persisted, "I really didn't want to trouble-"

"Oh for God's sakes, Ethan!"

Grace pulled over to the side of the road. Ethan gazed at her, concerned. She ran her hands down her face. "It's too much sometimes. Shaun was there a few days ago, and then he disappeared! Then you were gone too. The police was out looking for you, they had men waiting outside the house."

Ethan sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"And just when I thought I'd got you in enough trouble, you tell me about the origami figures, the trials…"

He unbuckled his seat belt and edged closer to her. "I don't know what to say…" he said to her, "except that I didn't want you worried. I just want us to get past this. And…be friends again?"

Grace dried her eyes. Ethan wiped the rest of the dampness with his sleeve. "Just friends, I hope?" she asked.

"Just friends."

"I think that works for me."

"Good."

Ethan leaned closer and gave her what he hoped she would perceive as an informal hug. She did and returned it in the same vein. They pulled away.

"Why don't you hate me? After all I've done to you?" she wondered aloud.

Ethan eased back into his seat and secured himself. "I could never hate you, Grace Garner. Even if I tried with all I had."

She laughed slightly. "Alright then, let's keep driving."

Ethan glanced at his watch. "I know we might be late for the doctor's appointment, but are we still up for the stop-over?"

"Yes, we're still going to the cemetery. We're actually really close."

They could see the gate approaching. "Thank you for this. I really wanted you to meet her."

The car stopped outside. Ethan reached for the bouquet in the backseat. His ribs stung in protest. Grace helped him out of the car. "Tell me which one," she said.

"Straight and ten paces to the left over there."

She put his arm around her shoulder and they trudged together, down the mucky pathway.

"That one there," Ethan pointed to a tombstone and they halted there. He tried to bend to put the bouquet, but the pain worsened. "Let me," Grace said and took it from him. She knelt before the grave. _Madison Paige _read the austere grey stone. She respectfully placed the bouquet next to it.

"I heard about her in the news. She was investigating the Origami Killer's case."

"She also saved my life. We were in the same motel. She'd seen me injured and bleeding. And she helped."

"I see." Grace touched the gravestone, possibly out of gratitude before standing up.

"She _believed _I wasn't the killer. She had warned me when the cops had arrived at the motel."

"The news reports say that she was killed in an explosion in the killer's apartment."

Ethan looked away. "Yes, she was."

Grace put an arm around him.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ethan. You two must have grown close in those three days."

For a moment, Ethan thought she was implying sexual intimacy. He thought with a hot flush about the moment when she had leaned in to kiss him and he had moved away. That was the last time he had seen her, sheepishly walking out of the room. And Madison's phone call from the intercom was the last he had heard from her.

"Ethan?"

"Mmm?"

"We should go. I've to pick up Shaun. He's probably sitting alone in the compound, cramming for his Algebra test."

Ethan put an arm around her. Her grip tightened around his waist.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he said.

"No… thank you. I'm glad I came."

They stood over the grave, for a final glance.

"I would have liked to meet her. And Agent Jayden too."

"Well… there is a greater chance of meeting the latter," Ethan said.

Grace smiled a little.

"If only…" she whispered, not for a moment realizing how great the chance was.

"Let's go," Ethan gently urged. They hobbled back together to the car. Grace made a U- turn for the clinic. Ethan looked out of his window.

"I have a good feeling about today," he said, "I feel lighter."

"I'm glad you do," she said, hoping that she would too, some day. Unbeknownst to her, 'some day' would come sooner than she expected.

* * *

**Author's note: **This chapter isn't exactly the best I've written but Chapter 3 promises to get better. I should be able to make something good out of it. :) Do leave me a review.

PS: If you're also simultaneously reading Hell Within, I assure you I'm trying to update it before the 13th, because that's the day college reopens.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **I'm a bad person. I'm a terrible, terrible person. I beg a thousand pardons for the delay and hope that the insanity that follows makes up for it. This chapter is admittedly not my greatest, but I hope you find it in your hearts to review it anyway. Much love to each and every one of my faithful reviewers - Witchy Bee, mythstoorfoot, Segran. C-JO, Tonnerre and XJitenshaX. xxxxxxx

* * *

Queries solved, Norman and Shaun stretched in their seats and watched his friends play soccer. From the corner of his way, Norman could see that he was being intently gazed upon. He turned to Shaun and smiled.

"What?" he asked.

Shaun smiled too, shyly, just like Norman had.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Washington."

"With your family?"

"I live alone. Ma and cousins are in Boston."

Norman tilted his head, a curious smile lighting his face again.

"Why do you ask?" he said, the amusement evident in his voice.

Shaun gave small shrug. "Just…"

They looked straight ahead. The boys playing were a blur of blue and gray jerseys, muddied shoes kicking a chess-board colored ball. The duo followed its uneven pathway as its flight was interrupted by a kick here, a head butt there.

Norman had been that football during the course of the investigation. But the hale and hearty ten-year-old next to him made it worth the effort. That, and the letter from Grace. He still had it with him. And he would always keep it with himself.

_Speaking of whom… _

"So…," he cautiously ventured to ask, "how're mom and dad?"

"They're fine."

"Are they… happy?"

He only asked out of concern. It was difficult being raised in a broken home. In Norman's case, it had been his foster mother.

"You mean like 'together'?" the boy asked.

Norman shook his head.

"No, no… I didn't… well… yeah."

Shaun was still looking at him.

Norman sighed. "I worry for you, kid. That's all."

The boy shrugged.

"Not together. But they're happy. I think it'll be fine now."

Norman noticed the 'I think.' There was uncertainty in it. A result of two long, silent years. Moments of unanswered questions. Their childhood had more in common than Norman was willing to admit. But at least the kid knew his real father. It was better than a ten year long void which a store owner could not entirely fill.

He blinked and realized he had been resting his head on the foot of the seat behind him. Shaun was too, and looking at him while he had absently gazed at the brown sky. The grays were melting away.

"You look sad," he said. Norman forced a smile.

"Do I, now?"

"You have sad eyes."

His smile broadened. "I'm just tired."

"I saw you on TV yesterday," said Shaun as he slid off his seat. "Wanna walk?" he asked, in a sudden digression.

Norman rose from his seat. Hands in pocket, he followed the child. Together, they strolled on the periphery of the field.

"Do you like being on TV?" Shaun asked.

"I like watching TV. Being on it… not so great."

"Why not?"

"Gets tiresome."

"What do you like to watch on TV, Mr. Jayden?"

"Whatever's on. Documentaries, movies, sports…"

"Shaun!"

They turned. It took Norman a while to trace the source of sound. But when he did, something heavy and strong lifted off his heart and fell into the pit of his stomach.

Grace Garner stopped short when she saw Norman. Smiling, she waved at them and walked quickly, skillfully dodging the soccer ball as it whooshed past her.

"Hey, be careful!"

"Sorry!" said one of the boys.

"Mom, you okay?"

Grace looked at the boys, then back at Shaun. "Yeah."

"That was close," said Norman.

Grace held out her hand. "Grace Garner."

"Norman Jayden."

They shook hands.

"I received your card, Ms. Garner. It was more wonderful a gesture than I can convey."

"Saving my son, Mr. Jayden, does not even begin to cover it…"

Shaun chipped in excitedly. "Can we take Mr. Jayden home? Can we? Can we?"

The adults smiled. Grace looked at Norman. "Well?"

"I don't want to impose," he began, "I- "

"Did you already have plans?"

"No, not really…"

"You do now. Go get your things, Shaun!"

He bounded off happily, across the field. Grace saw him go and turned to Norman. It was only when she raised her eyebrow did he realize he had been staring. Suddenly shy, he looked away.

"How long are you in town?"

Grace smiled on seeing a pink flush trickle into his cheeks. And she noticed that he really did have pale cheeks. He was actually very pale, unnaturally so. The medical examiner inside her was beginning to shortlist causes when he answered, "Three days."

"I see."

Shaun was back with his bag, grinning with readiness. They began walking. Grace let Norman walk a little ahead before lightly smacking Shaun's head.

"You do not invite people over with a 'can we, can we?' It makes them look like stray animals."

Shaun laughed. Grace smiled and ruffled his hair. Norman heard them, well aware that he had missed out on a moment. They exited together, their cars being the only two in a deserted parking lot.

"That's my car over there," said Grace, "I could go slowly so that you can keep up."

Norman nodded and got into his car. Shaun jumped in through the next door. He fastened his seat belt and waved at Grace through the windshield. She waved back.

"Or not." She shrugged at Norman, who gave her a head-shaking smile. "Or whatever. You have a live GPS now."

Shaun was talking animatedly, his mouth running at the speed of an induction motor. She marveled at the profiler's patience. They drove in a straight line, with Norman's car almost tailgating hers. She would keep looking up to check on them in the rear view mirror.

It was good to see Shaun happy. Although too much happiness could get very distracting for a ten-year-old who really needed to get his act together for Algebra. She looked back up into the mirror.

The car was no longer was there. Tense, she looked sideways, relieved instantly when she saw the car next to her. Shaun waved at her through the window. Norman did too, shyly before looking away.

A few more turns followed through gray neighborhoods under gray skies till they were home. Grace was the first to reach the house, hearing the car doors slam only when she reached for the house keys in the purse. She opened the door for them.

"My room's upstairs!" said Shaun. He raced up the wooden stairs, till only his footsteps could be heard on the floorboards above.

"What would you like to have?" asked Grace, as she entered the kitchen.

"I'm good, thanks."

After a pause, he added, "You have a lovely home, Ms. Garner."

She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Oh, it's just an assortment of things thrown together. Placements of all objects are purely co-incidental and convenient."

He leaned against the doorway, an appreciative eye darting across the warm, beige kitchen.

"It feels like home, Ms. Garner. That's a rare feeling to find."

Grace paused before the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"Well, you must feel at home within your own home. It's that one secure place you have in this crazy world."

"Most don't," said Norman," his eyes locked on hers, "where do you go from there?"

Grace parted her lips, oblivious to the open door of the refrigerator and its subsequent coolness. She never knew how to reply to rhetoric.

"Mr. Jayden!"

It was Shaun. Norman left the kitchen to stand under the staircase.

"Yeah?"

"Come on up!"

"Coming."

He smiled at Grace. "You better go," she said, "and call me 'Grace' hereon. Ms. Garner makes me sound like a schoolmarm."

"Call me Norman," he said while climbing upstairs. He stopped to lean over the banister, "Mr. Jayden' makes me sound a lot more respectable than it ought to be."

She smiled and watched him climb farther up before disappearing into a room. Grace intended to give them some time together before going up and goading Shaun to study.

Until then, it was time to get things done in the kitchen.

* * *

Lieutenant Carter Blake stood grimacing behind Charlene. The secretary smiled to herself as she typed out a letter of apology. It took a shy, unassuming profiler to humble a Goliath in the department. Or better off, to piss him off.

"That's okay," he said to her in a low growl. Charlene did not answer immediately. She carefully edited his words, making them sound more sincere than they initially were.

Blake did not object to her corrections. He appreciated them, but chose not to voice it in too many words. Charlene took his approving grunt as compliment enough.

"You should personally hand it over to Mr. Mars," she said as the letter was getting printed.

"Why do you say that?" said Blake, as he pulled the letter out in a clean stroke.

"Human touch, Lieutenant…" Charlene hesitated. "… maybe he won't press charges, then."

Blake did not answer. He read the letter carefully before signing it. "Envelope," he said and held his hand out for it.

"If you go personally, I'll have a drink sent your way," Charlene joked.

Blake folded the letter in deep thought. "I could use a drink… sure. See you at Casey's."

Charlene was about the clear the slight misunderstanding when Blake said, "I'm leaving the letter at his door. But I'm not saying a word more."

"A 'good day' would be nice," smiled the secretary.

Blake shook his head. "It's a rather relative term."

* * *

Shaun waved an action figure at Norman. "And this right here is Petey." He tossed it at him. The profiler caught it.

"So…" he said as he examined it, "you have a pirate fixation."

"Mom doesn't let me put posters on the wall, but I have so many of Captain Jack Sparrow!"

"Looks like he's the only one you like."

"He's the coolest!"

Shaun unfurled a poster for him. Norman took it from the boy, only to have more pile on.

"I know what to get you for Christmas now," he said, a smile lighting his face.

Shaun smiled back. "I wish you could stay till Christmas. Who'll help me with Algebra?"

Norman sighed. "You'll outgrow school some day, kid. And then you won't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you," said Shaun as he reached for his bag, "especially for Algebra."

The casual shuffling of his books escalated into a panicked rummaging. "Oh no!"

Norman looked from the posters. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Billy's notebook!"

As if to prove a point, he tipped it upside down. The books fell to the ground in a fluttering thud. Norman saw the mess and cleared his throat slowly.

"Look on the bright side," he began carefully, "your friend is a mathematical genius."

"I'd promised I'd return his notebook by dinner time."

"Call up school. Maybe they'll find it for you?"

"The offices are closed!"

Norman took a deep breath. "Then I guess we'll have to go retrieve it."

* * *

Grace was in the kitchen when she heard the sound of dragging feet. It was Shaun. "Mr. Jayden and I are just going out…"

Norman was coming down the stairs and Grace caught that sheepish grin on his face. She did not have to use her motherly intuition to sense something amiss.

"Out where?" she asked, humoring her son's pathetic attempt at a lie.

"… For a drive!"

It seemed like an on-the-spot improvisation. Clearly, the boy had not given it much thought. Grace was both amused and relieved at his inability regarding deception.

"Shaun, honey... what's wrong?"

He gave a small groan of defeat.

"I… left Billy's notebook on our sports ground."

Grace wiped her hands clean with a towel.

"That was very careless."

Shaun nodded, not looking up at her.

"Let's go get it."

He finally did, looking more surprised than relieved.

"Really?"

"Yes."

She threw on her jacket and left the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry about this, Norman. I'd pictured a rather different evening."

"I don't mind driving you to school," he said.

Grace considered the offer.

"This is awkward."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- "

"No, the overall situation. I can't have a guest- "

"Trust me," said Norman. "I'd be more than happy too."

Grace bit her lower lip, thinking. Norman grabbed his car keys.

"Come on."

The trio strapped themselves in the seat, with Grace mouthing '_bad boy_' to Shaun in the rear view mirror. Norman shook his head and stepped on the accelerator.

* * *

Charlene Taylor had never shared a drink with a man before or after her husband. She never had to. Charlene was never a lonely widow. She always had something to do, somewhere to be. But surely meeting the Lieutenant at the local watering hole required some sort of dressing etiquette.

She asked a passing detective if she was looking appropriate enough for a "bar setting."

Kathy Conley seemed amused. "Hot date tonight?" she asked.

Charlene felt her cheeks burn. "Oh no, just a casual meeting."

She gave her a scrutinizing glare. "You're too respectable for a bar."

"So… what should I do?"

"Lose the jacket."

Charlene instinctively reached for the lapels. "My jacket?"

"Yea. And roll those shirt sleeves."

"I'm not too sure about this."

"Get in the damn pee pee joint."

She led Charlene away by the arm. "We're gonna get you lucky tonight, oh yes, we are!"

Charlene tried very hard to suppress a laugh as Detective Conley led her into the bathroom. It was a mad, mad, mad, mad station.

* * *

Grace tugged at the lock on the school gate. "Won't open."

Norman inspected the lock. On an ordinary day, with a few odds and ends, he could have picked the lock. With the absence of any hair pins or nail files in sight, the odds were against them.

Grace backed away slowly from the wall. Shaun and Norman watched.

"Uhh… mom… what are you doing?"

She did not answer. Instead, she made a running jump for the wall. Unfortunately, she did not make it high enough. Grace bounced off the wall and landed on her shoulder.

"Ow."

Norman and Shaun bent to look at her. The agent offered her his hand and effortlessly pulled her up.

"Oh, you're strong…" she groaned as he helped her up.

Norman felt it an odd time to send a come-on his way. Grace was looking at his arm, substantially muscular, though his trench coat covered it up.

"Hoist me up," she said, suddenly.

Norman blinked.

"What?"

"Hoist me up and over the wall."

Norman knitted his hands together. "Are you sure about this?"

Shaun cleared his throat. "Mom, I think this is a bit extreme."

Grace placed a foot on Norman's hands. "No son, extreme was leaving your friend's notebook out in the open field for the rain to destroy. Extremely irresponsible."

Norman grunted and held her above the ground. Another moment and he was sure to dislocate his shoulder. With a quick "hup," Grace latched on to the ledge of the brick wall. She wiggled her legs as if she was swimming mid-air, before toppling over the wall.

"Are you okay?" the duo called out from the other end.

"No bones broken," she groaned from the other. "Wait there for me, don't leave. This place is freaky."

She staggered to her feet, and tried to make sense of her surroundings. Grace had accidently dropped down outside the junior school classes. She held on to the curving wall, hoping it led her to the football field. Her cell phone threw a mild ray of white light, not particularly helpful with the crippling darkness.

She walked on at a reckless speed, impatient and desperate to get out of there. _How? _she wondered, realizing then that she did not think this through. In her pace, she banged into something… or someone.

It was hard to tell. But a soft growling sound alerted her of impending danger. She spun on her heel and ran. A vicious barking followed, the sound of snapping teeth just inches from her derriere. She heard a more deranged snarl and the sound of footsteps.

Panting, she ran into the nearest open door, only to realize it was a broom closet. She turned to find that the door behind her was latched shut. Grace ran to the door and pounded at it.

"Hey! Hey! Open up!"

There was no answer. Grace looked around the room. There were cleaning fluids on the shelves. And brooms. It could have been worse, she thought. It was any day better than being trapped in a lavatory. Nevertheless, she tried to make her displeasure regarding her enforced incarceration known.

She hammered away at the door, hoping that someone, somewhere was listening.

* * *

"That's taking a lot of time, isn't it?" remarked Norman as he walked along the brick wall.

Shaun followed. "It's dark. Maybe she can't see anything."

The agent frowned. "How is that even an explanation?"

"You could help me up the wall."

"Forget it, kid."

He looked for an alternate entrance. "Your school's like some fortified establishment. You keep gold inside or something?"

They kept walking till they chanced upon a tree. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Shaun asked.

"Thought of and rejected already," said Norman.

"C'mon! It's our only chance!"

Norman tried to stop him. "You'll fall!"

"Not if you help."

"I can't climb trees."

"Nor can I."

Norman groaned and stood under the tree, arms outstretched for ready support. Shaun climbed not far off the ground before looking down at Norman. "Are you coming?"

Norman took a deep breath. "Giving me no choice here, kid."

* * *

The door unlocked with a metallic clang. Grace ran to it, only to find a cop waiting outside.

"You have the right to remain silent," said the young man as he pulled out his handcuffs.

"I know my rights!" she said and tried to push past him and the man who had locked her in.

They stood in her way. "Let me go and I won't press charges," she threatened.

"You're the one who's been trespassing, ma'am," said the cop.

"I'm just here to get a notebook for my son. It doesn't even belong to him so it's essential- "

"I told you she was here to steal," thundered the man Grace figured to be the groundskeeper.

"My son is right outside! And so is Agent Norman Jayden! Why don't you just- "

The groundskeeper and the cop exchanged looks.

"She's off."

"Definitely off."

"Turn around, ma'am."

"You don't ask me to turn around, you- "

The officer had her against the wall, handcuffing her wrists behind her back. "We can sort this out," she protested. "We can sort this out like a bunch of mature adults, right?"

The officer dragged her away.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" she called out to the groundskeeper. "Are you new here? Have you never seen me attend Sports Day?"

She was taken out of the gate, the other end of school and lightly shoved into a police car. Grace wailed a long "Shaaaaaauuuunnnn," as they drove past Norman's Impala. Quite strangely, man and child were not standing next to it.

Grace sighed and fell back into her seat, the wrists stinging under her weight. The officer was listening to rock music.

"Can you at least change the station?" she groaned.

The officer looked at her in the rear view mirror and cranked up the volume on the car radio.

Grace whined and pressed her throbbing head against the car window.

_Why God why?_

* * *

Norman's foot slipped as he made his way up the bark. Shaun was perched at the base of an unstable branch. "Is this really the best way to go?" asked Norman.

"Yup."

The boy struggled to climb higher, to the branch bending down to the school wall.

Norman cursed under his breath as he tried to keep up.

_Norman Jayden, FBI. Profiler, babysitter, tree climber._

His hands were raw from the nicks the friction left in his hands. His thighs ached as he edged closer to the branch Shaun had managed to reach.

Norman was beginning to feel idiotic.

"Wasn't that easy?" asked Shaun triumphantly as he slid away from him and closer to the wall.

Norman grunted and waited for the boy to make it all the way across. He was unsure about the weight the branch could handle, but he took his chances. Up ahead, Shaun had reached the edge of the wall and jumped down to the other side.

Norman straddled on the branch, swinging his legs in the air as he inched forward. _This is ridiculous, mortifying, embarrassing, exhausting._

He slid closer to the wall, as the branch began to thin.

_Awful, precarious, tiring…_

He had just reached the wall when the end of the branch bent double under his weight. Agent Norman Jayden landed successfully on the wall. Just not on the end he had been hoping to.

_And emasculating._

He tried very hard to keep the scream in as he bent over like the branch he was on. Half of it did come tearing out as he slumped over and banged his head against the top of the wall.

"Are you okay?" Shaun asked.

Norman looked down at the boy, a pained expression contorting his face. "I'm gonna die childless."

"You're not gonna die!" laughed the kid.

_Childless it is, then._

He moaned, swung one leg to join the other, and slipped down the wall.

"Let's go look for your mother now."

Retrieving a book did not have to be so difficult…

Norman wondered if he'd accidently joined the cast of _Leave it to Beaver_.

* * *

Ethan Mars arrived home, grumpy after a long wait, check-up and an exorbitant taxi ride through traffic. He was surprised to find the house dark and the front door locked.

Ethan tried to peep through one of the curtained windows, looking for any sign of movement. _Strange…_ he thought and pulled out a key to open the door. It slipped and fell near his feet.

Ethan held his aching ribs with one hand and tried to bend for the key. Of course, it wasn't so easy.

"Need help?" asked a voice behind him.

Ethan slowly rose to his feet with a grunt and turned around.

_Lieutenant Carter Blake._

Ah yes, the man for all seasons. Spreading happiness where none existed.

"You here to arrest me?" he asked as he tried to bend for the key again.

Blake beat him to it.

"Here," he said, handing over the key.

Ethan did not bother expressing gratitude. He wordlessly opened the door and entered. Blake followed him in. "Didn't find you home. Figured you'd be here," said Blake from behind him.

"This is for you," he said, showing him an envelope before leaving it on a table.

"What is it?" asked Ethan.

"A letter of apology."

Ethan coughed out a laugh as he sipped water from a bottle. "New PR exercise? Hidden cameras following you around?" He left the bottle and came out to read the letter.

"That's dignified," he said, before folding the letter neatly into the envelope. "I'm guessing you didn't mean a word."

"If the circumstances played out all over again, I would do _exactly _the same thing over. I'm sure you would too," said Blake.

"True," said Ethan and paused for thought. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I won't press charges though I'm not up for olive branches at the moment. I need time."

Blake shrugged, unrepentant. "If you didn't, I'd probably understand." He just wanted to get out of there.

"I will," assured Ethan. "I want to make a fresh start."

His phone rang. Ethan picked it up.

"Grace?"

He listened quietly. "That's rather foolish," he said at the end of what was a long monologue.

Blake gestured to Ethan. "I'll show myself out." As an afterthought he added, "Let me know if there's anything I can help with."

He bit his tongue. It sounded nicer than he'd meant it to.

Ethan ended the call. "There actually is something you can do for me, Lieutenant Blake. My ex-wife's in prison."

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds like it runs in the family," he sneered.

"It's a misunderstanding," said Ethan as he struggled to put on his jacket again.

Blake snorted.

"Isn't it always?"


End file.
